Synnecrosis
by dontcallmekoko
Summary: Synnecrosis is a rare type of symbiosis in which the interaction between species is destructive to both organisms involved, eventually leading to death. In a world where sex demons prey on unaware humans, Takao is an incubus and Midorima is dinner. ...Or he was supposed to be.
1. reelin him in

**Welcome to this weird-ass fic.**  
 **Close your eyes. Ok, don't close your eyes, you won't be able to read. Imagine this:**

 **The setting is present day, some urban city.**  
 **Our beloved characters are in the magical age range of 22-25.**

 **And demons are real.**  
 **Well, one type of demon, anyway.**

 **End of chapter notes will be useful for fully understanding the setting! Some stuff is probably going to be too awkward, wordy, or glaringly expository to explain through character dialogue or in-text!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

All he can think about is how fucking hungry he is.

Takao Kazunari's initial plans for the day had been work, coffee with a co-worker, more work, and then rounding the day out with his warmest socks, his comfiest blanket, and his favorite movie. Things had gone according to plan right up until the middle of his latte with Kise when he'd felt it. The rest of the work day had been a veritable nightmare and now, instead of Netflix and a blanket, Takao finds himself approaching the bar. For the _second_ time this week.

The weather isn't terrible for late November, but Takao has never been one for the cold and his feet can't carry him quickly enough, closing the distance from the metro to the bar in record time. As he gets closer to the neon lights and promises of warmth, the hunger pangs become longer. Deeper. He grits his teeth in an attempt to endure it.

Approaching the bar, a brief sense of relief washes over him before another painful wave rips through. Takao nearly bum rushes the door but finds enough tact and restraint to slow down and calmly turn the knob instead. He gives a nod of acknowledgment to the bouncer, the last thing between Takao and potential salvation.

"You look like you're in a rush," Nebuya comments, nodding back. His stature is made that much more massive by the winter coat he has on and just how much space he occupies in the rather tiny foyer.

Takao nods again, wanting nothing more in that moment than to ignore this conversation and head through the second entrance. When there's a brief silence and Nebuya keeps staring at him, Takao realizes he must be expecting a verbal response.

"You know how it is," Takao struggles to say, smiling. "Gotta eat."

Nebuya smiles back, just enough to be sociable but luckily, not so much that it seems he wants to keep talking. Takao smiles again and squeezes past him, through the final door.

 _Finally, warmth_ , is the first thought that comes to Takao's mind and he immediately scans the room.

Working the bar, there's Himuro, the somewhat-new guy whose name he still hasn't learned, and Mayuzumi—that's good. To his dismay, there aren't that many fresh faces, but among the regulars, he spots the face and lanky frame he's looking for. The trek from the door over to the booth is an easy one since it's not terribly busy tonight and Imayoshi catches sight of Takao almost instantly. Takao attempts a smile to greet him with but it just barely comes to fruition before the corners of his mouth give up and he winces in pain, instead.

Imayoshi raises an eyebrow and whistles at that, looking surprised. Or simply amused—it's hard to tell with him.

"You're back so soon, Kazunari!" Once Imayoshi turns his attention to Takao, the guys he'd been conversing with dispersed, as if being dismissed. "What about that kid from the other night?"

Takao grimaces again.

"I hope you're asking out of actual concern and not morbid curiosity because I am not in the fucking mood right now."

Imayoshi laughs. "Wow, someone must really be hungry! You always get bitchy when you haven't had a proper meal." The smirk on his face persists. Definitely amused. "So I'm guessing the guy was only, what, four points?"

Takao turns his head in annoyance, not willing to entertain Imayoshi tonight. He's never been keen on the way Imayoshi looks at humans solely as prey... and he's certainly not in the mood to discuss his last meal while his whole body is aching like this.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look great," Imayoshi offers.

Takao smiles bitterly. "Yes, it's great that everyone in this shit hole wants to fuck me but if they aren't a damn virgin there's no fucking point."

"Alright, alright." Imayoshi chuckles, though Takao is certain he hears a bit of apprehension there, as well. After a few seconds, he adds, "Hey... you know you can have a snack between meals, right?" Takao crosses his arms and Imayoshi's voice takes on a decidedly serious tone. "You wouldn't have to worry about your hunger getting this bad—you're literally starving yourself."

Takao purses his lips and decides to break eye contact then, turning to scan the crowd once more. They've had this talk too many times to count.

"I don't want to cause more harm than necessary."

Imayoshi sighs, a truly defeated look falling on his face. "They're just food, Kazunari!"

"We're never going to agree about this, Imayoshi." Takao knows there's no point in saying more than that. The way they feed may be the same, but the way Imayoshi appears to lack even a shred of empathy for the human race... that isn't him. That's never been him. Just then he gasps sharply, another torrent of pain ripping through him. He doesn't miss the way Imayoshi shakes his head.

 _Hunger's a bitch, though, so I won't judge anyone for eating well and of...ten... hold on._ Mid-thought, the door opens and Takao's prayers are answered.

"My, my." Imayoshi drawls, the dark, predatory tone in his voice far from hidden. "He sure looks lost, doesn't he?"

The man who just walked in hesitates as the door closes behind him. There's uncertainty in his broad, tall frame and his gaze goes from the booths, to the floor, to the bar, and back. The way he adjusts his glasses for no apparent reason and even his eventual choice to sit at the bar seat nearest to the door makes it clear to two incubi on the lookout:

Virgin.

"So which of us—"

" _Mine._ " Takao nearly growls it, extending an arm out against Imayoshi. "He's mine."

Imayoshi laughs. "Alright, alright, I concede. Go get him, dear." Still chuckling, he adds, "Don't scare him too far off with all that intensity, though. I still deserve a chance if you get turned down."

Takao manages a crooked smile at that before taking his leave.

As he approaches the bar, Takao analyzes his target. Pressed pants; fitted, collared shirt; pricey watch; what appears to be a glass of water; pursed lips; unwavering eye contact with his drink and the bar top. A reserved, proper young man, ordering a glass of water in a gay bar he's clearly never visited.

 ** _Please_** _let this one be a virgin_.

What Imayoshi last said strikes Takao again and he smiles to himself, almost laughs despite the pain intensifying, finally doing that dreadful thing where it spreads from just a body ache to a headache. The hungrier an incubus gets, the more alluring they become to humans—and he is fucking _ravenous_.

Takao looks him up and down one last time now that he's close to the bar. Takes this moment to admire the impressive body his conservative attire is hiding, noting the way his prim and proper clothes clearly cling on to well-developed muscles. He straightens his own posture a bit, possibly in self-conscious response to how impeccable _his_ posture is, and runs his hand through his hair, making the mistake of catching Imayoshi's amused and watchful gaze from across the room. He gives him a look that says 'Oh, _shut up'_ and leans against the bar.

"Himuro-kun?"

The bartender with the beauty mark turns at the sound of his name and smiles.

"Takao-kun. Would that be beer or a vodka tonic tonight?"

"Beer! The darkest you've got on tap, please."

Himuro nods and as Takao tilts his head slightly in the newcomer's direction, the two of them share a knowing glance. It's a subtle direction, but if Himuro picked up on it (and he always does, the reliable angel), Takao can expect Himuro to only come when he's called. Not that he's ever nosy, unpleasant, or even overbearing, but this was potentially delicate work Takao was embarking on—a hunt that required all of his attention.

The guy hasn't looked up once since he's stood next to him and he finds himself wishing the place were more packed—an 'accidental' bump against his arm would be a fine excuse to strike up conversation. But no, he'll have to make do with the current circumstances... so he goes with something tried and true.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before."

The man does lift his gaze from the wooden bar at that. He turns to Takao, his mouth poised to answer, but he stops. Takao smiles, glad he nailed his first impression this well. Yeah... he's glad he nailed it but at the same time... _wow_.

He really hadn't been expecting to seduce a total knockout.

Deep, perfect emerald eyes stare into him from behind perfect, green eyelashes, seemingly—no, definitely—stunned. Takao unwittingly takes a glance at his jawline, then his lips, and actually finds himself _lingering_ there. Which is all great, his prey definitely noticed that and anything that makes his intent clear is a good thing but... he definitely hasn't been this genuinely attracted to his prey in a long, _long_ time. Hell, he didn't used to think he had a type, but if all of his conquests were just carbon copies of this guy for the rest of his life, he'd be fucking _into it_. Takao finds the way his mouth is parted just a bit, still stuck on whatever he'd intended to say before laying eyes on him, particularly endearing.

"Is this your first time here?" he asks, hoping to coax an answer out of him. Curious to what his voice sounds like.

"Uh—" The man finally comes back to his senses and blinks a few times. He even looks to his side a bit, presumably making sure Takao is talking to _him._ More words fail to follow and Takao smirks, coquettish but encouraging, before breaking their eye contact to glance at the other man's drink. He makes a bit of a show of that, cocking his head just a bit as he does, in the way he knows highlights his neck and collarbone just perfect—thank goodness he'd thought to wear a v-neck to work today.

"What are you drinking?" he asks, looking at him again.

His prey finally seems to realize that he's literally been gaping at Takao in lieu of actually answering and he... _blushes_. Honest to god, _blushes—_ this imposingly tall, well-bred, broad-shouldered, mature young man just _blushed_ at him and looked away.

If that isn't the most painfully cute thing Takao's ever witnessed...

"Uh, it's just... just a water." He's fidgeting now, suddenly reaching for the near-empty glass. His long, elegant fingers trace against the condensation, push needlessly and then relax against the glass, repeatedly.

"You came to a bar and ordered water?" Takao asks, amusement not totally hidden in his voice. His aim isn't to tease him but he's pretty desperate to get this guy to talk more... to hear that surprisingly deep voice again.

"I, uh..." He licks his lips and doesn't finish the sentence. Takao concludes it must be because Himuro's arrived with his beer and he doesn't want to be overheard stating his reason for such chaste behavior—regardless of the fact that bartenders overhear any and everything _any_ way. Takao nods his thanks to Himuro and in the brief moment he's not totally focused on the task at hand, a hunger pang rips through him. He grits his teeth, _hard_ , and shifts his weight from one side to the other, using this as an opportunity to finally sit in the stool at his side. The young man seems startled at that, turning to look at him again, this time with confusion bordering on bewilderment in his expression. Takao just smiles.

"The bartenders can't make a tip off that—they might hate you if you're not careful. What do you want?" Takao asks, his instincts back in overdrive and his voice taking on an almost purr-like quality. "It's on me."

"I..." There's a pensive pause. "A gin and tonic would be... would suffice."

Takao smiles, glad he took him up on his offer (because who turns down a free drink?), and signals Himuro who strides back over in a matter of seconds. He places the order with him then returns his attention to the nervous man next to him.

"Your name?"

"...Midorima."

"Hm... Midorima-kun." Takao tests the name out on his tongue. He doesn't miss the slight chill Midorima-kun exhibits. Good.

"I was right, wasn't I? First time here?"

Midorima-kun just nods stiffly and keeps his eyes on the glass—no, Himuro seems to have cleared that, so he's staring at his hands. Takao can't really blame him either—they are quite beautiful. He thinks they're gorgeous enough that they might even mesmerize the owner on occasion.

"And what do you think of it?"

Midorima-kun sighs then gives the room a cursory glance, seeming to purposely avoid looking at Takao again.

That was... worrying.

"The interior is far nicer than the exterior would have one believe. The bar staff are well trained and seem polite. The lighting and noise level is reasonable."

"Yeah, you came on a good night. Weekends are a whole other story in that regard."

"There are a lot of... men."

Takao chuckles. "There are _only_ men—this is kind of a men's space, you know?"

"I... Yes, I gathered that."

 _Definitely_ a virgin, he's sure of it now. Takao does a silent prayer of thanks, hoping he isn't jinxing himself by jumping to conclusions. Takao lets the icebreakers flow out of him instinctively, to get Midorima-kun talking. The guys he goes after always seem stunned at first and then nervous, so he always chats them up casually to make them comfortable. But Takao realizes this guy is different. It's not that he isn't nervous—the way he's barely touched his drink and only occasionally makes fleeting eye contact with Takao is a clear assurance that he is. It's that... Takao smiles unconsciously.

He's _suspicious.  
_ Which is _interesting_.

The way Takao's hunger rips through him reflects as pure radiance on the outside... and since he's near tears with how badly his muscles ache for this guy, he _knows_ he looks incredible and he's _certain_ he's interested. His meal from the other night must have lied about being a virgin judging by the piss-poor bump he'd gotten from him—Takao isn't even counting it since the hunger is exactly as bad as it was three nights ago when he'd rushed through his tried and true methods of seduction (and probably, _somehow_ , made it _far_ too clear he was looking for a virgin). So why does it seem as though Midorima-kun isn't sold yet? Takao conducts a quick mental rundown of his next potential steps. He waits for a lull in their conversation and allows it to stretch on a little too long.

"Sorry." Takao straightens up, turning himself to face more towards the bar. "Looks like I'm bothering you."

Takao's periphery doesn't miss that Midorima-kun glances at him again. It feels like he might say something but he stays quiet. Takao's the one who plays with the condensation on his glass this time.

"I'll just finish this and leave you alone. If you don't mind me sitting here a little longer."

"I don't—" Takao had to resist from lifting an eyebrow. "I don't... mind you. You aren't a bother."

Takao turned back toward Midorima-kun, mimicking a sigh of relief as he smiled again, more reserved this time. "Well, that's good! ...Truth is, I came over here to talk to you. I would have been bummed out if I'd been dismissed that quickly."

Midorima-kun scrunches his brow but his eyes go soft. He finally takes a sip from the two tiny straws in his drink. "Why would you want to talk to me?" The look in his eyes puts a hidden emphasis on 'you' which is just... has he _seen_ himself...

"I found you intriguing, isn't that enough of a reason?" Midorima-kun's silence indicates it might not be so Takao continues. "I tend to like serious, brooding types, anyway."

Midorima-kun turns away a bit. "I'm not brooding."

Takao laughs genuinely at that but feels a little nervous. This is a bit too much like fishing for his liking. If his timing is off, he'll lose a lot of progress. If he pulls too hard, he might just reel him in... but risks snapping the connection. And if this were a night where he wasn't on the verge of feeling faint, he might have headed home and tried the next night but... another pang soars through him and he digs his fingers into his knee.

"Forgive me for being presumptuous then... And if you're not brooding, what's up with the depressed look on your face?"

Midorima-kun mutters something short about work and Takao offers an 'ah' in response, inching in just a little closer as he does. He's definitely being slicker than he was the other night, but he knows he's rushing it, he knows this progression could be more natural, but he _really_ can't help it—the more he talks to this guy, the more he looks at him. The more details he soaks up, the more physically attracted he is to him. And the hornier he gets, the _worse his body hurts._ Somehow he does manage to get through a second round of drinks between the two of them before he throws all of his careful preparation to the wind and even though a large part of him is screaming _NO DON'T DO IT_ and he hates himself for the lack of finesse in what he's about to say, the words leave his mouth anyway.

"So... were you planning on sitting here, fiddling with your straws all night or were you going to take me home and fuck me?"

* * *

 **I hadn't realized how badly I needed to use the word 'coquettish' until now. Sorry if Takao seems super duper manipulative here, but demons gotta eat! He himself is the Takao we know and love, so we'll get to see more of that later.**

 **Incubi and succubi here are like our vampires. It's as if we had an alternate timeline where Vlad the Impaler did creepy sex crimes instead of impaled people (*shudders* that sounds _super dark_ ), so Count Dracula was written as an incubus.**

 **And in an alternate timeline of _that_ world, Vlad _actually was_ a demon.**  
 ** _That's_ the universe this story takes place in, so to speak.**

 **I'm literally a sick person, so I've no idea how frequently this will update! But I'm very excited to finally get the ball rolling and there will be smmmmut in the next chapter! I'm curious to hear any thoughts and happy to answer questions in the comments section!**

 **Thanks for reading!  
**


	2. blissed out

Takao's groundwork is either laid down well enough that it somehow works despite his sudden, tactless word vomit or this guy _clearly_ came to this bar on a mission—and either way, Takao doesn't think it actually matters. After going red, _all the way up to his adorable ears_ , he'd sputtered something about stranger danger and not even knowing Takao's name but that had been easily assuaged by a slick smile and a nearly whispered, " _Kazunari_ " into his ear. And that was that.

Now he's in the passenger's seat of Midorima-kun's car, making laughable attempts at casual conversation while completely unable to tear his eyes away from his particularly enticing meal.

"You look nervous," Takao notes, a smile on his lips and amusement in his voice.

Midorima-kun doesn't say anything back but he does steal a quick glance at Takao again and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Takao almost feels bad teasing him, _almost_ —but he's _damn cute_ when he does it and he's always relished in cute reactions.

* * *

"Nice place," Takao says, but he might as well be lying because he's not paying any attention to his surroundings as the door shuts behind him. He made it. Thank _god_.

"Thank you." Midorima-kun's back is facing him. Takao takes a quiet step toward him as he sets his keys down on the kitchen counter. Whether or not the place is nice, Takao certainly notices that it's _clean_. Midorima-kun poises his finger over a switch, apparently contemplating whether or not the moon and city lights are enough for what they are about to embark on. Takao can see him just fine, actually really likes the way this man looks in the near-dark.

"Midorima-kun? Where's the bedroom?" he pipes up, more than ready to get the show on the road already.

Midorima-kun seems to almost jump at his voice, like he almost forgot Takao was there—or more like he had almost forgotten they'd come here with _that_ express purpose. "...This way," he finally says, apparently having made up his mind that yes, _yes_ , he is going through with this, yes, he is going to have a one night stand with a stranger. "And just Midorima is fine."

Takao gently shuts the bedroom door behind him and that's when his prey finally turns around again. The curtains are drawn and the low light from the window illuminates a face that is equal parts determination and something else... something along the lines of abject terror.

"Jeez, am I that scary?" Takao chuckles softly as he approaches him. He places his hands against the taller man's chest, then applies the slightest bit of pressure at his nails before dragging them down, managing to get a decent feel for the toned body he's set out to defile. Midorima's breath hitches and he stares at Takao intensely, still opting to keep his thoughts to himself. Takao smiles up at him, decides he flat out _loves_ how much of a difference in height there is between them, and becomes even more excited to further admire his physique. He brings one of his hands back up to pull Midorima down at the neck before mumbling, "C'mere..."

Their lips meet and the taller man shuts his eyes immediately. Takao watches him intently for a moment during this first kiss, notes the way his brow is furrowed in concentration, and feels a bit of relief at yet another indication of inexperience. He then closes his eyes, too, parting his lips slightly and closing them yet again in order to begin a second, harder kiss as he lifts to his toes and pulls Midorima even closer against him. Midorima's hands hold Takao at the small of his back to support him and Takao's grateful for it because _damn_ is he tall. Takao even lets himself get caught up a bit as he slips his tongue into the other man's mouth, now bringing his hand up to join the other and clasp around his neck, deepening the kiss and warranting a few hot pants from the bigger man. Their kiss is a slow build to what it finally becomes; something thorough and filthy and undeniably more sexual than sensual. Takao lowers himself back to the soles of his feet—Midorima follows, not allowing their mouths to part for even the briefest of moments—and lowers his arms to start unbuckling his prey's belt when suddenly Midorima pulls away.

"I..." He begins through unsteady breath. Takao is enraptured both by his reddened lips and what he's hoping he might say.

"Yeah?" Takao stills his hands, the room now very quiet.

"I..." Midorima's blushing now and Takao's eyes practically sparkle. "I've never done this before."

"Never hooked up with a stranger before?" Takao asks innocently, hoping to prod out a second, more appetizing truth.

"No, I mean... I've never—" It's not the easiest to tell in such dim lighting but Takao knows Midorima's blushing harder. The taller man tugs at Takao's shirt where he's been holding him this whole time and... somehow Takao can _tell_ from that gesture alone.

"You mean you're a virgin?"

Midorima nods. The look of apprehension in his eyes indicates he's gearing up for some sort of rejection. Takao smiles.

"As if that matters..." he says in a breath that's part laughter and part sigh of relief. He brings Midorima down for another kiss and this is all _comical_ to Takao right now because of what a complete lie and a complete truth those words were—it's _all_ that matters but at the same time, he'd felt this strong _need_ to let this guy feel like, let him _know_ it's nothing to worry about. Because... well, it _isn't._ If Takao was human and this was a normal hook up, there'd be _no way in hell_ he'd reject this gorgeous, adorable person over something as _endearing_ as still having his virginity intact. ...But he isn't human.

And Midorima won't remember any of this anyway.

Takao goes back to unbuckling his partner's belt to distract himself from the looming thoughts now threatening to spoil his mood—especially the one about why he's spending energy caring about what his prey hears tonight. He reaches his hand into the front of Midorima's pants, fondling the prize inside, and the virgin nearly chokes against Takao's lips. The sound is music to Takao's ears and he's impressed by the sheer girth of the dick he's rubbing against—he smiles and bites Midorima's bottom lip to let him know as much. Midorima flinches, but lets him.

"So this is the first time you've ever been touched like this?" Takao asks, his breath hot and teasing against the other man's mouth. He applies pressure and strokes, leading Midorima to do little more than offer a shudder and a moan as an answer. He observes him and can feel his hunger again, for the first time in a long stretch of time, building up, waiting to hit him in another wave. As fun as this has all been, it really is time to address his own needs. Takao pulls at Midorima's bottom lip again and gives his cock one good squeeze through his underwear before lightly pushing him away. He pushes him some more, prompting Midorima to sit at the foot of his bed.

Takao peels his shirt off slowly and from the bottom up, making sure he's got all of his prey's attention. He doesn't just want him to want him, he wants him to _need_ him; _that's_ what works for Takao. Once he's got his shirt off, he makes eye contact with Midorima, who appears to have not moved a muscle since he sat down. Takao's gaze wanders down to his own hands for a moment, leading Midorima to shift his stare, too, as Takao slowly undoes the button and soon the zipper of his jeans. Though he hasn't touched himself yet, the intensity in Midorima's eyes as he looks him over, as he wrings out every last moment of him undressing, is enough to help him sport a faint bulge in his boxer shorts. He sees Midorima swallow, no doubt his mouth having gone dry. With his jeans and socks kicked off to the side, Takao bares his neck and parts his lips just a tad before he reaches into his underwear and begins stroking himself. This is when Midorima's eyes go haywire and he can't seem to choose between looking at his face, his bare torso, or the hand in his shorts... and Takao smiles, he really can't help himself. Midorima's breathing's gone up and he looks positively delicious; the tent pushing against his underwear is huge now, poking its way out where his pants are undone.

Takao finally pulls off the last bothersome item of clothing, leaving him sinful and naked as the day he was born. He walks over to Midorima now, licks his lips, and drops to his knees. He gets comfortable between Midorima's legs, even parting them a bit to allow him room, then he tugs at the bottom of his shirt, hoping he gets the clue. Midorima does look at him questioningly for a second but something clicks and he tentatively begins unbuttoning his shirt, starting at the collar. Perfect. Takao's very interested in seeing Midorima's package up close like this and he palms the taller man's cock through his underwear once, twice, fully taking in the heat and the shape before pulling his pants and underwear down to his ankles in one swift, practiced motion.

It's... _huge._

Takao smiles to himself, almost _giddy_ about it. He'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't a slut for size. He glances up at Midorima, who is breathing unevenly with one of his hands over his mouth. Takao revels in the gaze he's bestowing upon him and continues to look him in the eyes as he sticks his tongue out and drags it against the head of his dick. Midorima lets out a stifled moan and his breathing picks up even further. Takao gives him a couple of firm pumps before licking him again, this time swirling his tongue around the entirety of the head before taking it into his mouth. He closes his eyes reflexively then because now, _now..._

 _Now_ he can feel his hunger waning, if only a little. The threat of a new wave of pain dulls, definitely still there, but certainly subsiding. He bobs his head down slow then pulls himself back just as slow, hollowing his cheeks and applying pressure on the frenulum once he's at the head again. Midorima is breathing with all of his being now and Takao begins to toy with his own member. He's happy with the reaction he's getting—there's a chance his prey might not survive this and if that happens... hell, he fucking _deserves_ _to enjoy himself, at least_.

It's been about thirty seconds of this blow job when Midorima's hand shoots out for Takao's head. He moans around the cock in his mouth, but also takes that as a sign that this virgin is _very_ close to coming. Takao gives him one more bob for good measure, really drawing out the wet, filthy sound his mouth makes on his way back up, and the uncharacteristically loud moan and fist in his hair lets him know he's definitely right. Takao pulls off of him and Midorima's hips arch into the air a bit at the loss. He'd had his eyes closed for some time now but he opens them again, seemingly confused and definitely disappointed.

"Lay down," Takao orders before stroking the muscular thighs at his sides. Takao is grateful when Midorima takes the unspoken cue to also move up entirely on the bed—he's met many a virgin that just followed instructions exactly as they were given. Takao reaches for his jeans on the floor, quickly retrieving a condom and his most inconspicuous bottle of lube from his pocket—it isn't his preferred brand but he hadn't left home that morning thinking he'd be in such desperate need of nourishment and this is his backup for just such an occasion. He strides over to the bed, lube and condom in hand, then takes a moment to soak in his prey.

Midorima's on his back, cock hard as hell, looking stiff and even a bit nervous... but he also sits up a bit to get a good look at Takao's naked form, as well. Takao smirks at that, nearly troubled at just how cute this human is. He places one hand on the bed, then swings his leg over and straddles him in the next movement. He holds the condom up.

"Have you put one of these on before?"

Midorima swallows hard and shakes his head no.

"Hm..." Takao lightly pushes against Midorima's member as he thinks, the brief contact leaving a sticky bead of precum on his ass. "Did you wanna try?"

"I... I can." His voice is hoarse, pained... desperate.

"You can... so does that mean you don't want to?" Takao raises an eyebrow and smiles, curious. Midorima's eyes don't waver from his and he rests his hands on Takao's hips, gingerly at first, then kneads against the bone with his thumbs. Observing that, he makes another guess. "Does that mean you want _me_ to?"

He's tearing the wrapper open with his teeth before Midorima even attempts to make a verbal affirmation. This human has a funny way of communicating... but somehow Takao gets it. Which he likes—no, he _really_ likes. Takao smiles even more and leans forward to kiss Midorima on the lips.

"You're cute," he informs him, voice so content and sensual, it's nearly a purr. Midorima gawks at that and Takao giggles a little bit.

Finally applying the condom, Takao rolls it down Midorima's length at a patient pace, knowing that too much stimulation will lead to a really short ride for them—and he'd _very much_ like to get some actual mileage out of this one.

"You still good?"

Midorima nods furiously, leading Takao to realize how dumb of a question that was. He smiles, pouring some lube into his off hand, then reaching behind himself.

"Do me a favor?" he asks in a huff, recapping and tossing the small bottle to the ground.

"A-Anything."

Takao feels a predatory swell of pride in response to that answer and he can't keep back another devilish smile.

"Hold me..." He grabs Midorima's hand and places it squarely on his butt cheek. He then pulls with him, leaving his hole partly exposed. "Like this." He bats his eyelashes. "The other one, too." When he obliges him, Takao leans forward far enough that he's laying flat on Midorima's chest and abdomen and that's when he goes from circling his entrance to pushing his middle finger in. It's an easy glide for him, both familiar and pleasurable, so he ups it to two fingers immediately. This time he moans, loud and breathy, mouth open right against Midorima's chest. He hums as he drags his fingers in and out of himself and when he inserts a third, he ruts against the bigger man's stomach, gasping at the heat where their bodies meet, the wetness of his own precum, and the friction of skin against skin. He lets out a moan that he knows would best be described as slutty and grinds down against Midorima again as he loosens himself up; this time Midorima groans with him and pulls his ass further apart.

This was good, this was _really_ good. Good enough that Takao wasn't acting at all. Putting on a show, well, of course, but _definitely_ not acting.

He pulls his fingers out, then shifts back a bit so he's poised right against Midorima's tip. He lifts himself up and stares at, hell _into_ him as he sinks down, one hand braced against Midorima's stomach and the other languidly pulling at his own cock. Takao moans openly as Midorima's dick pushes into him, filling him up even more than he anticipated; his voice is accompanied by the sound of Midorima's shocked, stuttered groans and the sight of his chest rising and falling heavily.

"That good, huh?" he teases. Midorima shoots him a look then, something that was probably meant to be a glare, but he clearly isn't able to muster up the edge required right now. Takao chuckles, finally seated so it's just skin on skin. He gives Midorima a moment to compose himself but doesn't stop stroking himself in the meantime. When it looks like he's calmed down, Takao lifts himself up again.

"Uhn..." He closes his eyes and knits his brow, stilling his hand as he sinks back down. " _Fuck..._ " He realizes that he might not need to encourage this orgasm on from the beginning. Midorima's thickness is just that— _thick._ Takao honestly feels a little dizzy when he realizes just how much he's been stretched open to accommodate him. He opens his eyes again, trailing his hands up, feeling up the defined muscles under beautiful, pale skin. He repeats the motion a few more times, then picks up the speed, now riding him in earnest. Midorima's grip on Takao is more lax then it was when he was fingering himself, no longer holding him open so much as holding on for dear life. Takao grits his teeth despite himself.

 _Gods, I hope this doesn't kill him._

Midorima thrusts occasionally and moans underneath him, softly when Takao slows down and keeps his movements simple; loudly when Takao sways his hips in circular motions and rides him hard. There's always that honest responsiveness in his prey and while it can lean toward awkward at times, Takao only finds himself entranced by Midorima's reactions. His voice is so deep and his eyes are so intense, boring into him, wordlessly soaking in as much as he can. Takao continues to grind deeper onto him as he reaches for Midorima's hands and encourages them to squeeze _harder._

And now he feels it.

 _Fuck_ , he can feel it now—the hunger subsiding. The last impending wave retreats entirely and the pain is replaced by something better, something intoxicating. He's never been entirely sure if this is how feeding is _supposed_ to feel since he only does it when he absolutely needs to... he thinks it's supposed to feel filling, slow and purposeful... but instead Takao always experiences it as a rush, a hot rush of lust and satisfaction that comes in almost as strong as the pain once did. It feels a lot like he's melting and he moans harder, louder as that feeling overtakes him. Takao licks his lips and tilts his head back. He picks up the pace to as fast as he can get it, and gets exactly the response he hoped for when Midorima's body goes tense and he loudly utters an expletive. He's no longer thrusting every now and then, he's thrusting for real now, grabbing at Takao's buttocks even harder, _pushing him down_ even.

Takao writhes a bit, turning it into a twist against the cock inside him, because he can feel the other thing now... he can feel himself changing. He glances down at Midorima, leaning in to kiss him and—whoops.

"Take these off," he says, voice hushed. He doesn't wait for Midorima to register what he's just said and he pulls his glasses from his face before crushing their lips together, then moaning into his mouth as their movements become even harsher. " _Mmm..._ _god,_ Midorima," he moans and closes his eyes before resuming the kiss, garnering a throaty groan from the taller man. Takao's just placed the glasses to the side when his body jolts.

" _Fuck!_ " he spits out, breaking the kiss, licking a spot of salty skin on Midorima's neck, and grinding onto him even further. He runs his tongue over one of his canines and feels that it's much longer and sharper than just a minute ago. The feeling of his spine pressing tight against the skin on his back is like a good, deep stretch and ecstasy blows through him as he clenches down on Midorima. When he opens his eyes there's the slightest tint of orange to the edge of his vision, indicating his irises have changed. Takao's a little disappointed he won't be lifting himself to watch Midorima when he comes but it's well worth it to not deal with him freaking out.

Midorima is close, Midorima is _very_ close and Takao knows it because his entire _being_ —not his body—feels as if it's lifting an enormous weight; the weight of his prey's life force, what he's been after from the start. It feels like fire wherever their skin meets, the hands grabbing onto him are sure to leave marks, and the length inside of him is hard as steel... which is miraculous timing because it's a rarity that Takao is _also_ about to come when his prey is.

" _Ah..._ Midorima... You feel... fucking _perfect..._ " he groans into his ear before sucking on it because he fucking _means_ it.

"K-Kazunari..." the baritone rumbles against Takao's ear, sending a shiver through him. His voice is strained with what must be the discipline it took not to come far sooner than this. "I'm going to... C-can I?"

"Come." Takao feels the pull on Midorima's life force become easier, lighter. His body's absorbing it now and he can feel it slowly pass through his skin, then permeate his muscles, his veins. But it isn't enough and his brow knits, desperation even leading him to tug at his own cock harshly, his precum slicking over him almost like lube.

Now Takao's the one that wants it.  
Hell, he literally _needs_ it.

" _Please_ ," he begs, his voice choked out in a sob.

That does it. Midorima lets out several loud, long moans, his back arches up from the mattress for a few last deep thrusts, and he grips onto Takao's hips, keeping him in place.

"F-fuck, _yes!_ " Takao shouts, his own back arching as Midorima's cock pulses inside of him. The pull suddenly becomes a _surge_ and he's flooded not only with the rush of pleasure as he climaxes but a wave of what could only be described as... _tangible_ satisfaction. Takao's moans only become lewder and grow in volume as he comes, hot semen spurting out into his fingers and onto the taut muscle below him. His moaning finally fades into faint breathing as he comes back down, attempting to regain his bearings after his mind going blank. Takao shivers once, then a few more times as he shifts forward, Midorima's now limp cock slipping out.

He's exhausted and panting... but he's sated.

"...That should be enough for a few weeks..." he mumbles to himself, sighing out of habit. He pulls away from his prey's neck and looks down.

Midorima's eyes are closed and he looks... totally blissed out. Takao smiles faintly at the slightly parted lips and the lack of a crease in his brow before frowning, apprehensive of this next part.

Lightly pressing two fingers to the skin right under Midorima's jaw, he bites his lip. When he feels nothing, his fang pierces his lip a little, and he swallows hard. He presses just a little harder, his own heart racing and the taste of blood unpleasant on his tongue.

There's a pulse.

Takao lets out a sigh and his eyes flutter closed as he mouths 'thank you' to no one in particular. With that, the edge has finally worn off and the rest of him slips into beautiful, _beautiful_ afterglow.

It doesn't take long for Takao to get himself cleaned up and out of Midorima's apartment. His clothes are all in one pile near the foot of the bed, he disposes of the condom in the wastebasket near the nightstand, and once he finds the bathroom, the first thing in sight is a towel. Hoping it isn't a problem, he wipes himself off, then wanders over to the bed to wipe Midorima off, too. By the time he does that, he can even see his chest rising and falling and that makes Takao smile again.

He pulls out his phone and opens the rideshare app that he downloaded specifically for hunts. Lucky for him, the wait is only four minutes.

Takao cracks his neck and rubs it.

All in all, a good night.

* * *

"Well, don't _you_ look a whole lot better?"

Takao smiles wide as he approaches the booth Imayoshi is sitting in, a beer in hand. The bar is comfortably full tonight and the good mood is infectious, reminding Takao of why he loves it here in the first place. Also, Himuro just called him cute for no reason and that had taken him from a great mood to an _excellent_ one.

"I _am_ a whole lot better." Takao sits down and Imayoshi returns his smile. "That virgin was..." He sighs. A gorgeous virgin with a big dick and a tidy room—Takao's seen some real shitholes since he started hunting—who managed to survive his feeding. "Just wonderful." Imayoshi looks skeptical but amused.

"If he was so great, why are you back so soon?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He was _so_ great, I wanted to come here just for the drinks and conversation, Ima- _kun_."

Imayoshi laughs appreciatively at that. "Impressive! I'm glad we're back on friendly terms then, Kazunari."

Takao rolls his eyes. "Oh, please, you know how I get." Imayoshi knows almost everything there is to know about Takao, whether he likes it or not—kind of the burden of them growing up together. As he takes a sip of his drink, he notices the coat in the spot next to Imayoshi, then looks at the booth's coat hanger and sees Imayoshi's standard wax cotton jacket. "Who else is here?"

Imayoshi gives off one of his impish grins and looks over at the bar. Takao follows his gaze.

"Aomine?"

Imayoshi nods happily. "Yep."

"Uh, he knows this is a gay bar, right?"

"Well, the name is 'Cheeky'," Imayoshi replies. "It's either that or a strip club."

"Right... but does he _know_ that?"

"He made a throwaway remark the other day about wondering if female prey and male prey taste different, so I enlightened him."

Takao frowns. "They... don't." Right? While it's true that how feeding _feels_ probably differs from demon to demon, everyone agrees that it feels the same no matter the human... right?

"That's not true, dear, it's different for everyone."

Takao's frown doesn't budge and he looks at Imayoshi warily.

"...You're just curious to see if he'll hook up with a guy."

Imayoshi smiled and tilted his head to the side, in an attempt at a look of innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."

"You're scary." Takao looks at Aomine again, probably waiting on drinks for Imayoshi and himself. While he's definitely being flirted with by the guy next to him, he doesn't seem to need rescuing... he's either totally oblivious to it or it bothers him a lot less than Takao expected it would. He shrugs and chuckles.

"Ah, look who's dropped by."

Takao tears his eyes away from the bar to the entrance, despite wanting to see how Aomine might react to a hand on his thigh. The door is just now closing behind a tall, young man with green hair and glasses.

Takao blinks, surprised, if relieved, to see him up so soon. While he can't be sure since he never sticks around, Takao's under the impression that his prey are pretty disoriented when they first wake up... and he _knows_ his memory's been obliterated. Most people wouldn't be up to going out the same day they wake up naked in bed with a condom in their trash and no memory of who they were with or how they got home.

"Midorima again," Takao comments.

"'Midorima,' huh?" Imayoshi ponders. "Well, he's still as attractive as ever. Too bad someone had to go and defile him before I had the chance..." Imayoshi cracks a smile. "Well, I could always do with a midnight snack."

Takao bites the inside of his cheek. Imayoshi is dead right about Midorima looking good. There is a considerable amount of weariness in his face, however, which only makes sense considering he had a ton of energy literally drained from him the night before. Takao feels a bit guilty but reminds himself—here he is, up and at 'em.

"He must not remember coming here at all last night," Takao says. Midorima's approaching the bar now in a similar manner to last time. He returns his attention to Imayoshi and his drink.

"Yeah, seems like it... Takao's infamous mind melt strikes again."

" _Don't_ call it that!" Takao snaps, but it comes off whiny. Ever since he told him about his first hunt back when they were teenagers, Imayoshi teases him at every chance he gets. Takao's usually capable of giving as good as he gets, but this has never been funny to him. Despite that, though, it seems the kid in him just can't ever get across _just_ how unfunny he actually finds it.

"Maybe he'll be stuck in a loop. Ah, but I guess that would only happen if you nailed him again."

Takao sips at his beer in annoyed silence, secretly fuming and staring daggers at Imayoshi.

"I'm just kidding, Kazu—oh, look at that!" Imayoshi's voice lifts in an almost child-like wonder. "Aomine's getting someone's number!"

"What, seriously?!" Takao whips his head back to the bar and—dear god, he sure is.

Imayoshi places a hand over his mouth, feigning a proud parent about to cry at their child's recital. "I can't believe this, I... I'm so happy."

It sure is quite the sight to take in. They've both known Aomine since they were teens and through Takao's discovery that he heavily prefers dick and Imayoshi's experimenting across all genders and relationship types, neither of them have ever heard him express interest in anything that isn't explicitly female. Yet here he is, using his cocky, flirty grin on the boy that's been chatting him up for the past few minutes. (Has he even ordered the drinks yet?) There's a weird moment, a half-second, where Takao accidentally makes eye contact with Midorima, who was apparently looking in the same direction as him—awkward.

"Congratulations, Ima-kun."

"Thank you, Kazunari." He sighs dreamily. "I've been plotting," Takao's ears perk at how he actually admitted to _plotting_. "How to get Aomine to try new things for years..." Takao watches as his senpai's face slowly goes from serene to discontent, all with a smile attached. "To think it was this easy... I'm actually pretty annoyed."

Takao laughs out loud.

"Oi..." Imayoshi warns.

"That's what you get!" Takao says, laughter bubbling out of him.

"No, I mean, heads up." Imayoshi gestures back in the direction of the bar. Takao follows his lead and—oh.

Midorima is walking this way. Takao stares since his conquest from last night seems to be mostly focused on getting through the small crowd of people with the least amount of bodily contact.

"Um." Takao blinks, not sure what to think. "Do you think he's coming over here?"

"It looks like it..." Imayoshi sounds more wary than curious for once.

Takao tries to look elsewhere and convince himself he's got to be headed for an empty table or... something. Takao returns his attention to his beer, taking a big sip.

"Anyway, I forgot to ask—did you get those photos I sent you?" When Imayoshi doesn't answer, Takao looks at him. He's looking up. So Takao looks up...

To a tall, young man with green hair, green eyes, and glasses. Takao licks his lips at the sight of him on reflex because as tired as he looks—yeah, still just as hot.

"Can I help you?" Takao asks. Midorima's eyes pierce him with a higher intensity that he never quite received last night, likely because the only time he'd maintained eye contact for longer than a few seconds was when Takao was practically galloping on his dick. He still hasn't answered so Takao smiles a bit... not really sure of what else to do here.

"K...Kazunari, right?"

Takao freezes and he can feel Imayoshi go still, as well.

"Excuse me?"

Midorima's face remains serious but he blushes a little now.

"Your name is Kazunari, isn't it?"

"I—uh..." Takao glances over at Imayoshi with his mouth still open, in total shock. Imayoshi isn't doing much better; in fact, he looks freaked the fuck out. "Y-yes. It is." After a pause.

"How... do you know that?"

* * *

 **(someone shoot me, i can't believe i caved and and wrote "naked as the day he was born" ._.)**

 **Sorry Shin-chan was so quiet, he was a little too swept up in sex allomones to put words together. (As sexy as the word 'pheromones' is, apparently that only applies between members of the same species? Boo, science.)**

 **clarifications:**  
 **\- Imayoshi, Takao, and Aomine went to the same middle school and high school.**  
 **\- This was only a partial (very partial) transformation for Takao.**

 **Next chapter we find out how Midorima woke up that morning and what led him to remember Takao!**  
 **Thank you for readingggg, please let me know what you thought! ;]**


	3. That was cute

**I apologize if the tense switch is weird, it's just that technically the first part is a flashback. *shrugs***

 **enjoy otherwise~**

* * *

Midorima Shintarou's day had been a rough one.

He'd awoken very slowly that morning from a deep, dreamless sleep, his eyes met with too much sunlight and a blurry ceiling. After a few dazed blinks weren't enough to regain his bearings, he raised a hand up to rub his eyes and was startled by how sore his arm was. He tried sitting up but his abdomen ached—in fact, the more he came to his senses, the more it felt like he'd fallen down a flight of stairs.

...Had he fallen down a flight of stairs?

His cellphone began to ring before he could follow that line of thought any further. Midorima groaned through a dry throat as he attempted to support just the smallest amount of weight on his arm. His body caved and he slumped back into his sheets. He couldn't do it. He couldn't _get up_. The phone had long stopped ringing by the time Midorima finally managed to sit up at the edge of his bed. And by then, he'd also noticed he was, for some indiscernible reason, completely naked. Ignoring how parched he felt for the moment, he racked his brains, trying to remember what could have happened that led to this bizarre fatigue he was experiencing.

Then his phone rang again.

Pushing through the soreness, Midorima brought himself to his feet. It took one wobbly step forward for a rush of lightheadedness to take him by surprise, and it took the subsequent stumbled step backward for seemingly his entire stomach to flip. Shintarou knew what was coming and covered his mouth, managing to grab the wastebasket near his nightstand before his insides evacuated. He continued retching until his phone stopped ringing and even then his stomach felt as if it were just on the edge of betraying him again. He could make out a pair of his pants on the floor near the foot of the bed, where the ringing had come from—would he ever make it that far?

When Midorima finally got a hold of his phone, five miserable, nauseous minutes later, his eyes widened at the total missed calls: _10_. Dread filled him and just before he checked the time, his screen changed, taken over by the name 'Akashi Seijuurou'. He cleared his throat as best he could and pressed the answer button.

"H-hello?"

"Shintarou." There was a short sigh on the other end, along with the sound of a phone softly ringing in the background. "Where are you? I have been calling you for the last hour."

"Last hour…?" he repeated, voice hoarse. Midorima glanced at his watch (god, had he worn it to bed?) and his eyes widened again. _Shit._

"Did something happen? It is very unlike you to keep others waiting..."

It was 11:34 am and he'd had an interview at The Akashi Research Institute... at 11:00. Late was a _gross_ understatement. His nausea multiplied at this revelation.

"My apologies, Akashi," he mumbled, rubbing at his temples with his free hand, his stomach churning and his thoughts a mess. "I… I am not feeling well." There was a bit of silence before Akashi answered back.

"Very well then." He sounded… less than pleased. It was understandable… while Midorima was sure securing this interview hadn't required Akashi to pull strings very _hard_ … a favor was a favor, and this had been a rather large one. Midorima thought to explain, wondering if he should mention rescheduling now or wait until he could apologize in person, when his stomach flipped again and he reached for the wastebasket.

"Shintarou? Shintarou?" he could hear faintly from his phone's speaker, held far away. When Midorima was sure he wouldn't need to do that again, he brought the phone back to his ear. This was getting disgusting. At least it was just Akashi on the line...

"I am sincerely… forgive my negligence. I know this was a favor." He felt faint again and an uncomfortable sweat now settled in.

"Do not be ridiculous, Shintarou. You clearly sound ill." There was another pause and Midorima faintly heard Akashi addressing someone else, though he couldn't make out what he was saying. "I will see what I can do about potentially arranging another interview. I can't say how soon it will be considering your sudden absence… but I will let you know. Do you have the proper means to care for yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. In that case, do feel better. We can make arrangements to meet some time next week."

Midorima thanked him and hung up. He vaguely felt like he should be more worried but if he was honest with himself, working for Akashi's group had never really appealed to him. From what he knew about them, he wasn't even sure why they would hire him in the first place; the corporate-backed institute focused on genetics and that didn't match Midorima's academic background in anatomy. Even if he managed to secure a researcher job there through his connection to Akashi alone, it would amount to him doing work in a field of study wildly outside of his preference... hell, outside of his _expertise_.

One thing at a time, though. Beginning with his current, pathetic state.

Midorima hoped that a shower would help, at least a bit, even keeping the water warm instead of hot to stave off the lightheadedness—in the end, it did nothing for his muscle soreness even it did get rid of the grimy feel of dried sweat on his skin. Looking himself over in the mirror, Midorima inspected his skin for bruises but found none—which made no sense at all for the amount of pain he was in. It had to have been brought on by some sort of physical impact... It had to and yet his body showed no physical signs that anything was wrong.

Aside from the ghost-like pallor of his skin.

Just what the hell happened to him?

After cringing through the disposal of the contents of his wastebasket, getting dressed in the most comfortable loungewear he had available, and lying down for another hour, Midorima shuffled his way over to the kitchen to dredge up some breakfast. His car keys were at the counter and once he'd eaten, he mustered up the strength to get downstairs and check that his car actually _was_ there—it was.

But that was almost as disconcerting as it was relieving.

Sure he'd brought his car home, but had he even driven it? He'd had some errands to run earlier in the day yesterday and he did remember coming home in the late afternoon… but what happened after that? He had obviously left the house again but when? Why? Where had he gone?

He got absolutely nothing when he tried to recall any of the events past his coming home in the afternoon and briefly sitting in front of his computer. It had been to search for something, he'd specifically meant to look _something_ up... so he resolved to check his browser history.

...And apparently, Midorima had gotten pretty bored.

It only made sense that the beginning of his browsing history from yesterday afternoon had been a cursory look through some job listings. The prospects in the general area always left a lot to be desired but it seemed he'd actually clicked on a few of them—none of which he remembered, so he made a mental note to give them another thorough look later. After a few minutes of that, he'd moved on to looking at a coat he'd been planning on purchasing some time soon. Then he'd gotten even _more_ bored, wandered onto a few of his preferred pornography sites, and clicked on a few videos. His brow scrunched and he sighed in annoyance with himself; his job searches went like this a lot lately. He chose to ignore the timestamps on the porn so he could remain ignorant about exactly how long he'd spent giving in to his baser desires, lest he fall from annoyance to self-loathing... And finally, the last pages in yesterday's history were a search for local bars.

Then the clarification of _'gay bars near me.'_

Shintarou had visited some bar homepages, lots of local business review sites—he'd done this before, did it once a week lately. But this search seemed to be more extensive; he'd clicked on and looked up far more options than he usually did before the nerves and the embarrassment and the feelings of social inadequacy took over and he closed the entire browser window. This time, the last page in his history was a Google Maps page—with directions to a bar named Cheeky.

* * *

When Midorima arrives at this bar 'Cheeky', he finds the exterior rather unremarkable but parks his car anyway. Sure, the place isn't much to look at but his initial impression is outweighed by the the importance of him, _possibly_ , blacking out here. He'd had the entire day to discern the cause of his severe lapse in memory and once he'd understood his internet activity... well, using inductive reasoning, it seems to be the only answer. It undoubtedly doesn't match up with _him_ as a person, but he has no idea what happened, now does he?

There are a few people hanging around near the entrance—all of them smoking and conversing—and Midorima avoids making eye contact (and breathing in too deeply) as he pushes past the front door.

"—you _have_ _to_ check, _every time_."

"Even on 'regulars?'"

The main door closes behind Shintarou, shutting out the cold air all at once. It appears the man on as the bar's bouncer is getting a chewing out from... one of the bartenders, if his uniform is any indication. The bartender sighs and although only one of his eyes is visible with the way his hair is parted, Midorima can very clearly read the exasperation on his face.

"You just started, you don't know who the regulars are ye—" The shorter man stops himself, finally noticing Midorima. While it's rare for Midorima to go unnoticed for even a moment, if only because of his height, it is definitely conceivable under these circumstances—the bouncer is _huge_. It's rare that he comes across someone taller than himself, especially _this_ much taller. The bartender bows slightly and clears the way for Midorima to pass through, but looks at the bouncer-in-training expectantly. The giant turns to Midorima.

"Are you a regular?"

"No." Midorima is more than a little put off by the question, especially the apathy bordering on sleepiness it came with.

"ID."

In a few motions, Midorima has his driver's license out. The bouncer all but glances at it before returning it and waving him through.

" _A-Atsushi_ , is that what you've been doing all night!?" The bartender speaks up, clearly too appalled to wait for their patron to be out of earshot.

"Yeah. People complain less this way."

"You can't just _ask_ people if—"

The second door shuts behind Midorima and he looks the inside of the bar over. Its interior is far, _far_ nicer than the exterior had him believe. The furnishings are well complimented by the lighting and the bar itself is a beautiful testament of woodwork. Midorima pauses, looking the room over once more. Eventually he realizes it would be absurd to sit anywhere other than the bar as a lone patron and approaches the nearest bar stool.

So far, this... isn't a success. He definitely doesn't remember coming here. Neither the bouncer or bartender seemed to recognize him, though it's possible they simply weren't here the previous night. And they _do_ work at a bar... He looks around again and wonders if this is hopeless, after all. None of this is stirring his memory, all of this is new to him—he hadn't even recognized the streets and buildings on his drive over. Another of the bartenders, a young man with grey hair, approaches him.

"Welcome to our establishment. What would you like to drink?" His eyes are incredibly blank and he seems less than thrilled to be taking Midorima's drink order. He thinks to order water then remembers that bartenders tend to frown upon that... then opts to order water anyway because the mere idea of liquor entering his system makes his stomach turn. The bartender looks at him for a second, not saying a word of confirmation or moving to get his drink. He looks like he might _want_ to say something... though whatever it is, he clearly decides to keep it to himself once he grabs a glass and serves the water from a soda gun. He then places the glass in front of Midorima and leaves him to tend another patron.

...Surly.

Midorima then resumes observing his surroundings as he continues to not recognize a thing about this experience. It finally strikes him that he did it—he's finally _doing it_ and has gone out to a gay bar to... what, socialize? Meet someone? Lose his virginity, maybe? Instead of excitement, he just feels... discomfort. Gluing his eyes to he bar, he sips at his water, becoming increasingly aware of how many of these men seem to already know the place, the bartenders, each other... If he was here last night, what exactly was his plan for once he got here?

This is awkward.

Is this really how some people meet?

Midorima shifts his thoughts elsewhere while he drinks and, without meaning to, begins thinking about his job hunt. While he's been selected for interviews nearly every time he's sent in an application, none of the institutes he's applied to have really caught his interest—not enough to devote his life to, at least. Sure, he could just join a team and earn some experience (and money) in the meantime but... Midorima sighs and adjusts his glasses; that's exactly what he should be doing and he knows it. He glances around again, already sick of thinking about the big question mark that is his job prospects.

It really does seem like everyone here knows each other, but the most he would describe the interactions as is friendly—hardly sexual or even flirty in nature. He briefly wonders if this is a gay bar at all—but of course it is; there are no women present and its name is _Cheeky_ , of all classless things. (He does a short prayer that he'll never have to use the bar's name in a sentence.) Oh. Never mind, two guys at the bar are clearly exchanging phone numbers. The taller of the two has a cocky grin on his face, as if this happening is only inevitable, while the other one appears to have stars in his eyes, he's so captivated. Just when Midorima is about to turn his gaze back to his glass, he makes sudden, brief eye contact with someone across the room, sitting in the booth section. Uncomfortable. Then, with the glass at his lips, Midorima freezes.

That just now had felt familiar, somehow.

He... he _was_ here last night.

Slowly, faint recollections come back to him, though most of them are a bit too muddled to truly be called details. The bar top looks and feels familiar now, he remembers this lighting... was the bar this full last night? It doesn't feel like it... Many things remain completely alien to him, like the route he drove here and the bouncer—yet at the same time, he does recall the bartender at the main entrance smiling at him as he placed his drink in front of him. No—drinks.

Right?

His eyes trace a path back to the stranger he just met eyes with, a guy with dark, straight hair and a somewhat lean stature, laughing heartily at whatever his companion has just said. Then Midorima suddenly realizes that he _knows his name_.

 _Ka... Ka... something with a Ka..._ he thinks. The more he ruminates on the guy's name, the more he remembers other things about him: a perpetual grin accompanied by mischievous eyes, a playful lilt to his voice, a natural ease in his speech and the way he carries himself, and a neck and clavicle he can only think to describe as 'edible' for some ridiculous reason.

 _Kazunari.  
That is definitely it._

Midorima is more than a little confused right now between the sudden recollections, the remaining gaps of blackness, and not realizing _when_ exactly he stood up and started making his way across the room. If he thinks about it, he must have started moving around the moment he'd grasped the first syllable of the guy's name. Walking through the small mass of patrons proves to be a little difficult for someone as averse to unwanted human contact as him but it's completely worth it when he looks at Kazunari again. There's... there's something _about_ him and it's more than just how attractive he remembers him being, it's even more than him potentially knowing something about what he was doing here last night. For whatever reason, Midorima is simply...

Drawn to him.  
And the closer he gets, the more desperately he needs to reach him.

In fact, the anticipation grows so much that when he finally does reach him, when Midorima is standing right at his table... he, uh, doesn't actually know what to say.

"...did you get those photos I sent you?" He is still talking to his friend, who certainly _has_ taken note of Midorima's presence. Kazunari finally follows his friend's gaze and looks up at Midorima, as well, and the curious look in those striking eyes of his helps Midorima faintly remember that it is customary to speak when you approach someone and stand at their table, interrupting their conversation.

"Can I help you?" Kazunari asks. The guy smiles at him, just a little and Midorima's heart _soars_. Whatever this is, it is not normal. To be attracted to the guy is one thing, but to have all of his thoughts dissolve just from a slight smile? For his pulse to turn rapid almost immediately upon eye contact? To have his mouth go dry like this? His mind races for the appropriate thing to say, when it strikes him that, of course, he needs to verify his name.

"K..." He faintly licks his lips, hoping he's not about to make a fool of himself. "Kazunari, right?"

"Excuse me?"

Shit. There were two options now: either apologize for his mistake and leave this place forever or double down.

"Your name is Kazunari, isn't it?" Midorima is sure it is. He's _sure_ because he can still hear it as a low, suggestive whisper in his ear.

"I—uh..." He glances over at his friend before finishing. "Y-yes. It is." A wave of relief overtakes Midorima and although his heart still races, he, mercifully, regains some of his composure.

"How... do you know that?"

"I—I'm sorry?"

Kazunari is about to speak again when he's interrupted by the slam of two glasses on the table. They all snap out of the oddly tense moment, Kazunari's friend included, and the guy Midorima had seen procuring a number at the bar is now at his side.

"Did you guys see that?" the tanned man asks, the confidence in his voice as thick as syrup. "Been here for ten minutes, already guys are clamoring for me."

Abruptly, the man sitting across from Kazunari rises to his feet.

"Ah, Aomine! You finally got back with our drinks." He grabs the pair of glasses and begins shimmying out of the booth. "Perfect timing, I was just getting ready to move."

"What? Oi, get back here with my beer!"

And with that, it's just Kazunari at the booth.

"M-may I sit?" Midorima asks, feeling profoundly awkward looming over him like this.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah! Go ahead..." Kazunari nods but eyes him steadily, warily almost, as he sits across from him. "So, how do you know that? My name."

The line of questioning is strange to say the least; because he told him, of course. Midorima is about to tell him as much when a look of... _relief_ dawns over the other man's face.

" _Oh_ , okay. Okay. You must have asked one of the bartenders." Kazunari visibly relaxes and a smile graces his face, causing Midorima to suppress a warm chill. "Which one did you ask? The one with the beauty mark? Or the gloomy-looking one?"

Midorima's brow knits in confusion, though, abnormal warm chills aside.

" _You_ told me your name. Last night."

Kazunari seems to go tense again; even the smile is a bit stiffer now. If his suspicious behavior is anything to go on, Midorima is at least confident that he definitely _did_ speak with this guy last night.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks.

"I am," Midorima says. He isn't... _completely_ sure, but he answers quickly enough that his own self-doubt doesn't show. Kazunari fidgets in his seat a bit. Midorima can't quite read his expression, but if he had to hazard a guess, the guy is choosing his next words wisely. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he mumbles a soft 'oh.'

"You know what? You're absolutely right." The raven-haired boy's posture relaxes and he smiles apologetically. "We totally did chat last night." Midorima closes his eyes and sighs despite himself. Even if his memory is still a mess, at least now he knows he isn't going insane...

"What did we talk about?" he asks hoping for something, anything at all to jog his memory. Kazunari takes a hold of his glass and looks up at the ceiling, pensively.

"Hm, we didn't talk about much." Then he makes eye contact with Midorima again and gives him a dangerous smile, the kind that could easily be misconstrued for... flirty. "I tried flirting with you, but you weren't interested."

And it must be the long day he's having in combination with that devilish smile that makes the next words come out of Shintarou's mouth, because as soon as he says it, he cannot believe he's allowed himself to say something so embarrassing.

"I find that hard to believe."

There's a short moment of silence between them but the words he's just uttered ring loudly in his own ears... and now he's _blushing_ , he just knows it, god _damnit._ The silence is broken by a boyish giggle from the man sitting across from him.

"Was that a compliment?" He covers his mouth a bit and the question is followed by more laughter. Midorima feels his face get even hotter and right as he's about to dismiss himself from further mockery, Kazunari adds,

"That was pretty cute~"

* * *

By the time Shintarou gets home, he's exhausted and still unsure if his investigation was a success or not. Sure he'd figured out his whereabouts from the night before but... what else happened?

Why had he woken up so unbelievably ill?

And why in God's name is he so stuck on what that guy last said to him?

 _'That was pretty cute~'_

"'Cute' my ass..." Midorima grumbles as he places his keys on the kitchen counter. He poises his hand over the light switch, then pauses.

This... this feels familiar, too.

After turning on the light, he glances around his apartment. Of course, everything is as neat and orderly as he'd left it just over an hour ago. And yet something feels... he realizes he may be remembering last night and slows his pace to hopefully trigger something. As he enters his bedroom, his mind fills with the image of that guy, Kazunari, for some reason—the sharp clarity of his eyes, the amused curve in his smile, the faint city lights playing off of his fair skin, daring Midorima to touch...

Hold on.

 _'That was pretty cute~'_

He's stuck on that because he's heard it before. He heard it... here.

Midorima feels pure exhaustion overtaking him with the effort it takes to pull forth this memory but finds it beyond worthwhile when he finally does—

 _'C'mere...'_

 _'So this is the first time you've ever been touched like this?'_

 _'You're cute.'_

Kazunari.

...That guy was _here_.

And he lied about it.

* * *

 **This is my second fic with puking in it, except this time it's Shin-chan! :D (I seriously feel so bad making him suffer like this.)**

 **I have nothing else to say this chapter! Hope you liked it and please leave a lil review, they are a fic writer's lifeblood u u  
** **ooh, and/or tell your midotaka friends about it, that works, too**

 **See you next chapter!**


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